


Trouble with Tartuffe

by parapraxis



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Light Bondage, M/M, Real Person Slash - Freeform, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1347004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parapraxis/pseuds/parapraxis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ian struggles to learn his lines for an upcoming play, Mark decides to get creative in order to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble with Tartuffe

**Author's Note:**

> This is a real person fiction. It is not written with any intention of being disrespectful to Mark Gatiss or Ian Hallard. If you do not care for real person fiction, please don't read it. 
> 
> Copyright notices: Ian and Mark belong to each other, not me. The lines they are reciting are from the play Tartuffe, written by Moliere. I, also, do not own those. Everything else is mine. Except Bunsen. He also belongs to Mark and Ian.
> 
> Enjoy.

“Alas! You’re free to think so, if you please.” Mark read the pages from the script as he lounged in his chair, feet dangling over the arm.

“Yes, yes, I’m free to think so;” Ian moved about before him, recalling his lines from Tartuffe from memory as he worked on his blocking in their living room. “And my outraged love may yet forestall you in your perfidy, and offer elsewhere both my heart and hand.”

“No doubt of it; the love your high deserts may win..” Mark read with a cheeky grin.

Ian reacted with appropriate outrage, “Good Lord, have done with my deserts! I know I have but few, and you have proved it. But I may find more kindness in another; I know of someone, who’ll not be ashamed to take your leavings, and make up my loss.”

“The loss is not so great;” Mark replied dismissively. “You’ll easily console yourself completely for this change.”

“I’ll try my best, that you may well believe. When we’re forgotten by a woman’s heart, our pride is challenged; we, too, must forget; or if we cannot… must at least pretend to. No…” Ian paused. “No other way can man such...baseness prove, as...as...damn. Line?”

“No other way can man such baseness prove, as be a lover scorned, and--”

“And still in love.” Ian sighed as the line came back to him. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Let’s do it again.”

“Ian, we’ve been through this scene a dozen times. Take a break.” Mark set the script down and stood up, crossing the short distance to his husband and gripping his arms lightly. “You’re exhausted. If you push yourself too much on this line, you’re going to flounder on stage.”

“Mark, the show opens in three days! If I can’t remember the bloody line--”

“You will,” Mark soothed, sweeping a lock of hair from Ian’s face and smiling down at his lover tenderly. “You’ll learn the lines as you always do, and you’ll be brilliant...just as you always are.”

Ian rolled his eyes in an attempt to hide his blush. “You’re just saying that so you don’t have to run lines with me.”

“Noooo, of course not.” Mark cupped Ian’s face, tilting his head up until their eyes met. “I’m only partly saying that so I don’t have to run lines with you. The other part of me genuinely means it.”

“You arse.” Ian laughed, playfully smacking his husband’s arm before Mark bent to kiss him sweetly. Ian melted into Mark, a soft moan escaping him as he opened his mouth in silent invitation for more. Long, slender arms enfolded Ian’s body, pressing him against his husband’s chest as Mark took advantage of his invitation and deepened the kiss. Mark’s beard was rough against Ian’s smooth face, irritating his skin as the kiss intensified and tongues vied for dominance. He could feel the budding erection pressing against his hip and grinned against Mark’s lips as his hand covered the bulge and gave a teasing squeeze. “Someone’s eager.”

“Reading lines always excites me.”

“Liar.” Ian leaned in and nipped at Mark’s throat. “I’m going to take the dog out, then we’re going to do the scene again.”

Mark groaned as Ian released him and stepped around him to retrieve Bunsen’s leash from the side table near the back door. “You are positively evil.”

Ian grinned at him over his shoulder, “Love you, too.” He gave a soft whistle and Mark watched as Bunsen bounded from his basket near the fireplace, tail whacking his shin as he ran passed Mark to Ian. 

With a sigh as the door closed behind Ian and Bunsen, Mark adjusted himself and considered having a quick wank. If Ian was dead set on doing the scene again, no amount of wooing would change his mind. As much as Mark enjoyed rehearsing lines with his husband, he was feeling particularly randy and all he wanted was to shag Ian blind. 

Tapping his fingertips together, he tried to scheme a way that would help Ian remember this one line he couldn’t seem to get straight. Normally, most actors would tweak a particularly difficult line that kept tripping them up, but with Moliere, there was no way to ad-lib without possibly being a detriment to the entire production,or at least the rest of the scene.

Grinning wickedly, Mark began to slowly strip out of his clothes, laying them neatly on the back of his chair and draping himself across the arm and seat provocatively. He knew the lines well enough now that he didn’t need the script, so instead he casually studied his nails and waited for Ian and Bunsen to come back in. When he heard the door open and close, he waited a beat--listening as Ian let the dog off the leash. Bunsen went to his water dish and began lapping noisily at his drink while Ian kicked off his shoes by the door. Like clockwork, Ian sighed and crossed the threshold to the living room moments later.

“Alas!” Mark called, startling his husband and making Ian jump. “You’re free to think so, if you please.”

Ian blinked several times, as if unsure if he was seeing things, then broke into laughter. “What the actual fuck, Mark?”

Mark pretended to be confused, furrowing his brow and looking around as if something were amiss. “I thought you said you wanted to run through it again?”  
Ian was holding sides, trying to contain himself, but only ending up with a fit of giggles as he shook his head. “Is this how you propose to save me opening night when I’ve forgotten the line? As much as I would appreciate the sight, I’m not sure it would go over very well with the others. Not to mention the director, the audience, and my bloody parents who will be sitting right next to you.”

“I’m not sure what you mean?” Mark sat up and crossed his leg over his knee, placing his hands in his lap as he leaned forward, waiting for Ian to explain his meaning.

“You are...absolutely insane.” Ian laughed, moving to his husband and waving his hand about to get Mark to uncross his legs and lean back. With a sly grin, Mark complied and Ian carefully sat across his knee, leaning in for a kiss. “And I absolutely adore you. Come on, you’re right. Let’s go up, yeah?”

“What happened to going over your lines?”

“I think I’ve had enough of that for now,” Ian smirked, his eyes traveling down his husband’s bare chest and soft stomach. “There’s something else I’d like to go over instead.”

“Why, Mr. Hallard,” Mark’s expression was one of quiet shock, “How dare you make assumptions of my virtue. What sort of man do you think I am?”

Ian gave an indignant snort, “You’re sitting here dressed like that and you want to argue about virtue? I daresay the evidence is forever in my favour, love.” He leaned in with a smug smile and kissed Mark soundly. “Come upstairs.”

As Ian popped off his lap, Mark tried to think of something witty that would turn the tables back in his direction, but he knew he’d been bested. “You win this time, dearest mine, but just you remember who always comes out on top.”

The sexual innuendo wasn’t lost on Ian, who turned with a haughty expression etched on his face. “And just remember who it is that gets you there.”

“Mmmm… yes,” Mark grinned, a dreamy look on his face. “Taylor Kitsch, Matt Bomer...the list is endless, really.”

“Oh, well, I’ll just ring them up, shall I?”

“Oh, would you? Might as well phone Tom, too--you never know, I could be the one to turn him.”

Ian cringed apologetically, “I hate to tell you this, Mark, but I’m not sure you’re Hiddleston’s type. I hear he likes them with a bit more hair up top.”

Mark gave him a shrewd look. “That is completely uncalled for.”

Ian grinned and darted up the stairs, knowing Mark would soon be after him to inflict his punishment for the balding quip. Having a husband nearly half a foot taller than you was often a disadvantage in situations such as this. Having a husband half a foot taller with extraordinarily long and limber legs only added to that disadvantage. Ian was just below the top step when Mark’s fingers closed around his ankle, jerking his foot out from under him and dragging him halfway back down the stairs. Ian barely had time to wheeze in the breath that had been knocked out of him before Mark flipped him over and pinned him down, kneeling on the step under his hips.

“You’re a very mean spirited little boy, Ian Hallard. And do you know what happens to mean spirited little boys?”

Ian’s lips twitched as he tried to contain his mirth. “They get a good spanking?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Mark’s voice had dropped an octave, coming out deep and breathy. It sent a shiver up Ian’s spine and he couldn’t help but press up against Mark as his cock throbbed.

“I should be taught a lesson.” Ian replied, his own voice dipping lower.

Mark released one of his wrists he’d been holding down and trailed his finger along Ian’s jaw before his long fingers curled around his throat, squeezing just hard enough to cause some restriction in Ian’s airway. “And what would this lesson be?”

Ian closed his eyes briefly, his prick so hard it was brimming on the point of painful. He squirmed slightly under Mark, trying to find some relief to the pressure, but his only reward was Mark’s fingers tightening over his windpipe. He gasped, barely able to draw in enough breath to slake the burn in his lungs. His free hand reflexively pushed at Mark’s chest as the momentary fear that his lover would actually choke him took hold. 

“Be still.” Mark’s lips were against his ear, but the fingers didn’t loosen. Mark could feel Ian’s heart pounding in his chest, and his own cock jerked in response. There was something insatiably arousing about making his husband both excited and alarmed at the same time. When Ian had stilled beneath him, brown eyes meeting blue, Mark repeated the question, “What would the lesson be?”

“To always have a headstart when you insult a balding man.”

Mark was actually stunned by the quip, his jaw dropping slightly as he gawked at Ian for several seconds. He could feel the shorter man ripple with barely contained laughter and glared down at him. “You cheeky little bastard.”

Ian opened his mouth to respond but Mark silenced him with a kiss, stealing the rest of his breath away. He moaned softly against his husband’s lips, allowing the tongue to push into his mouth and seek out every millimeter of it. Mark shifted his weight more firmly over Ian’s body, the press reminding him that he was still partly planking on the stairs as a step dug into his lower back. He groaned in discomfort and lightly pushed Mark back again by his chest. “As much as I’m enjoying this, love, my back is going to kill me tomorrow if we don’t move off the stairs.”

Mark bent his head to kiss Ian one more time before pale arms pushed off the step under Ian’s head and he stood up. Ian warily eyed the hand that was offered down to him a moment later, before looking back up at Mark’s face. “My mother warned me never to accept anything from naked men. Especially bald ones.”

“You...wanker!” Mark bellowed, reaching down and grabbing Ian by the front of his shirt and hauling him into a sitting position, face hovering an inch from his husband’s, teeth bared. “By the time I’m finished with you--”

“You still won’t have any hair.” The slap came as a surprise to both of them and Ian stared at Mark dumbfounded. “Did you just…”

“Yes, I think I did…” a moment of strange silence passed between them and Mark found Ian studying him closely. “What’s the matter?”

“I was trying to see…” he said slowly, squinting. “Nope, aggression didn’t make it grow any.”

“I fucking hate you.” Mark growled, releasing Ian and stepping over him as he climbed the stairs towards their bedroom.

“Oh, don’t pout,” Ian called after his husband as he pushed himself to his feet and jogged up the stairs to catch up with Mark. Catching the other man around the middle, Ian tried to pull Mark to a stop, clinging to his back as he was half dragged into their bedroom. “Come on, love, you know I’m just having a laugh.”

Mark peeled Ian’s arms from around him, and spun around, grasping Ian’s wrists and backing him up against the bureau along the wall as he kissed him hard, eliciting a strangled cry of surprise. Pulling back roughly, Mark’s hand wormed its way down the front of Ian’s jeans and into his pants, gripping his husband’s cock with a tight squeeze. Ian’s mouth formed a silent ‘o’ and his eyes slid shut as his head lulled back. “Just having a laugh, are we?” Mark breathed in a low, dangerous voice.

“I--” Ian’s voice shook slightly and he licked his lips, but never got to finish his thought as Mark ripped his hand back out of his trousers and spun Ian around to face the bureau. 

“You’ve been very, very naughty tonight.” Mark practically purred with malevolence as his hands skimmed down Ian’s arms, flattening his lover’s hands on the wooden surface before him. Blue eyes slowly rose to meet Ian’s in the mirror, the hard, mischievous look to them foretelling what was to come. “Alas, you’re free to think so if you please.”

The words caught Ian off-guard and he furrowed his brow as he watched Mark’s reflection in the mirror. Long, slender fingers ghosted up his spine, gradually applying pressure until Mark was forcing Ian to bend over. “What are you--”

A quick smack to his bottom and a look of warning cut off his question and Ian bit his lip to keep from hissing. “If you please…” Mark repeated.

Ian licked his lips, “Yes, yes...I’m free to think so. And my outraged love may yet forestall you in your perfidy, and offer elsewhere both my heart and hand.”

Mark was reaching around Ian’s waist, fumbling gracefully with the button and zip on Ian’s jeans without ever breaking eye contact in the mirror. “No doubt of it; the love your high deserts may win.”

As his jeans and pants were pushed to the floor, Ian’s mind blanked again in anticipation of what Mark would do to him. His hesitation, however, earned him another hard smack--this time on his bare buttock. “Mmpf! Are you planning to spank my lines into me? That’s hardly going to help me on stage--though it would give a very wicked twist to Moliere if Valere was flogged throughout that scene by Mariane.”

Mark smirked despite himself and landed two more smacks on the back of Ian’s thighs. “Don’t make me repeat myself again,” he retorted in clipped tones. Ian stalled another moment, just to annoy Mark. Baring his teeth, Mark grabbed a fistful of Ian’s hair, yanking his head back as he leaned in and bit down on his husband’s ear. “Do not test me, my love. I have no qualms about striking you until you’re red for a week.”

Ian felt his cock jerk in response, panting heavily as his heart raced with excitement. Using that ache in his loins to his advantage, he growled as if tortured, “ _Good Lord,_ have done with my deserts! I know I have but few, and you have proved it. But I may find more kindness in another; I know of someone, who’ll not be ashamed to take your leavings, and make up my loss.”

Tracing the line of Ian’s jaw as he released the hold on his hair, Mark breathed against the skin of his lover’s neck and pressed himself against Ian’s bare bum. “The loss is not so great; you’ll easily console yourself completely for this change.”

Pushing back against Mark’s erection, he fought the urge to moan as his eyes fell back on Mark’s reflection. “I’ll try my best, that you may well believe. When we’re forgotten by a woman’s heart, our pride is challenge; we too, must forget; or if we cannot, must at least pretend to. No other way can man such baseness prove, as be a lover scorned, and still in love.”

Mark rewarded Ian with a tender kiss behind his ear, pleased at the fluidity of the line. Grabbing Ian’s hips, he thrust forward sharply, the blunt head of his cock parting his lover and striking against his entrance. “In faith, a high and noble sentiment.”

“Yes,” Ian cried in pleasure, eyes closing as Mark rubbed himself in the crevice of his arse. “And it’s one that all men must approve. What! Would you have me keep my love alive, and see you fly into another’s arms before my very eyes; and never offer to someone else the heart that you had scorned?” 

“Oh, no, indeed! For my part, I could wish that it were done already.” Mark abruptly pulled away from Ian, moving towards the walk-in closet.

Ian turned and followed him with his eyes,” What! You wish it?”

Mark paused in the doorway of the closet, giving a demure smile, “Yes.”

Stripping off his shirt and stepping out of his bunched jeans, Ian continued on as Mark began to pick through a rack of ties and scarves. “This is insult heaped on injury; I’ll go at once and do as you desire!”

Sounding bored, Mark replied, “Oh, very well then.”

“But remember this. ‘Twas you that drove me to this desperate pass.”

Mark appeared against at the doorway of the closet, winding a leather strap around his hand as he grinned impishly at Ian. A black scarf was draped around his neck, and Ian shivered again in anticipation as, very softly, Mark replied, “Of course.”

Ian wasn’t sure how he was even able to remember to draw breath, much less recite Moliere, but the words came flawlessly, “And in the plan that I have formed I only follow your example.”

“Yes.” Mark purred as he slowly began to cross the floor towards Ian.

“Enough,” Ian said thickly, tongue darting out to rewet dry lips. “You shall be punctually obeyed.”

Making a twirling motion with his finger, Mark draped the leather strap over his shoulder and pulled the scarf into his hands. Ian turned back to face the mirror, hands returning to the top of the bureau. He watched as Mark stepped up behind him, leaning in to kiss Ian’s cheek, then the scarf was placed over Ian’s eyes and pulled into a knot at the back of his head. “So much the better.”

“This is once for all.” Ian panted and heard the leather strap creak in Mark’s hands.

“So be it, then.”

Before he could say his next line, the strap landed across his arse with a crisp snap and leaving Ian’s cheeks stinging. Hissing between his teeth, he gripped the edge of the bureau, trying not to reflexively move away. The strap came back across him from the opposite direction, but still managed to hit the same mark, making him cry out. Two more smacks and his arse felt as if it had been lit on fire.

Again and again, Mark abused him with that strap, until Ian’s whole world consisted of nothing but his hard cock, the stinging flesh of his arse, and the breeze of hot breath as his lover panted from exertion. When nothing came for a few moments, Ian felt himself tense, knowing that Mark must be waiting for him to relax. Instead, however, he felt Mark’s hands trailing down the back of his legs as he knelt behind him. Warm breath stirred the flames before a wet tongue licked the seared flesh, leaving a soothing trail of saliva in its wake. He sighed at the relief, clinging to the pleasure that still lingered under the pain of the swats.

“Now you’ll be thinking of me when you walk, when you sit, when you stand…” He punctuated each thought with a kiss across one cheek, then probed his tongue between the two hemispheres before trailing it all the way up Ian’s spine to the back of his neck. Ian practically shuddered with pleasure, unable to contain himself. He felt Mark’s breath again at the nape of his neck. “Hands.”

Licking his lips, Ian knew what Mark was demanding without further prompting and stood upright, putting his hands behind his back. He felt the strap slip in place over his wrists before it was cinched down tightly and wrapped thoroughly so there wasn’t likely to be an easy escape. His heart was pounding in his chest again--now blind and bound, he was completely at Mark’s mercy.

Mark’s hands gripped his biceps, pulling Ian back against his chest as lips began to travel up the side of his neck. Mark’s heavy breaths washed over the shell of his ear, making him shiver. “I love you like this,” the low voice was dripping with honey--coated with pure arousal--and Ian groaned, dropping his head back against Mark’s shoulder. A hand moved over his chest, sweeping low across Ian’s abdomen, “Absolutely amenable. And completely mine.”

Ian turned his head towards Mark and pursed his lips, silently requesting a kiss, which was languidly granted. “Always,” he murmured. Mark rewarded him with another, harder kiss before abruptly spinning them both around and shoving Ian forward. He knew the bedroom enough to quickly calculate the distance between the bureau and the bed, stopping himself just before he would have stubbed his toe on the bed frame, and immediately felt Mark behind him again.

“Now then,” Mark’s tone had slipped back into that dangerous quality as he roughly bent Ian over the mattress, forcing his lover to lay his cheek against the duvet. “I believe we were in the middle of a lesson.”

“Mmm. Were we?” Ian asked with a flippant tone, earning a open-palm smack on his stinging arse.

“I see I stopped too soon,” Mark quipped, stepping around the bed. Ian heard the nightstand drawer open, then close, and his cock throbbed in response. He licked his lips and widened his stance a little. Mark made a soft noise somewhere between amusement and arousal. “Eager, are we?” 

“What makes you say that?” Ian pushed his hips back as he felt Mark come to stand behind him again. He heard the cap of the lubricant bottle flick open, and his heart quickened in his chest.

“Must have been something you said,” Mark teased as his fingers slid from just behind Ian’s sack up between his cheeks and to his entrance. Mark’s fingers were slick and cool, and Ian shuddered slightly. “Tell me how much you want this.”

“You know how much I do.” Ian panted.

“Tell me,” Mark demanded gently, pushing a finger inside of his lover.

Ian moaned quietly, fighting the urge to rock back against Mark’s hand. He licked his lips and tried to focus on the question. “You drive me absolutely mad with desire. I have never wanted anyone the way I’ve always wanted you. With just one look you can make my knees weak, and just one word will have me doing anything you ask of me. Sex with you isn’t a want, love...it’s a need. I need you inside of me more than I need the air in my lungs.”

Another finger joined the first, and then Mark’s lips were against Ian’s ear as he leaned over his husband. “Alas…You’re free to think so, if you please.” Mark said in a sultry voice.

Groaning, Ian knew immediately what Mark was trying to do, and all he wanted was to concentrate on the pleasure being doled out to him. “Please, love...not now.”

“If you can say the lines now while I’m fucking you, I promise you won’t forget them on stage.” Mark breathed, tongue coming out to trace the shell of Ian’s ear.

“Yes,” Ian licked his lips. “Yes, I’m free to think so; and my outraged love may yet forestall in your perfidy, and offer elsewhere both my heart and hand.”

“No doubt of it;” Mark scissored his fingers, making his lover grunt. “The love your high deserts may win…”

“Good lord, have done with my deserts! I know I have but few, and you have proved it. But I may find more kindness in another; I know of someone, who’ll not be ashamed to take your leavings, and make up my loss.”

Mark withdrew his fingers quickly, leaving Ian shuddering on the bed as he picked up the bottle again and spread the lubricant over himself. “The loss is not so great; you’ll easily console yourself completely for this change.”

At the end of the line, Mark rubbed the head of his cock at Ian’s entrance, taking hold of Ian’s hips and holding him firmly in place as he penetrated him with just the tip, waiting for his lover to say the line he’d been struggling with. Ian was panting beneath him, fingers flexing as if trying to reach for Mark through the restraint of the strap binding his wrists. He could see the heated flush on Ian’s face, painting his visible cheek a pretty pink that stood out in contrast against the black of the scarf tied around his eyes. He was beautiful like this, Mark thought; so trusting, so obviously aroused, so accommodating to Mark’s quirks and kinks. Mark almost rewarded him just for that, but remembered that he actually did have a purpose to quoting Tartuffe in their bedroom.

“I’ll try my best, that you may well believe. When we’re forgotten by a woman’s heart, our pride is challenged; we, too, must forget; or if we cannot, must at least pretend to. No other way can man such baseness prove, as be a lover scorned, and still in love.”

The line was delivered with perfect precision, not even a hint of hesitation, and Mark grinned before the plunged the rest of the way in. Ian cried out in pleasure, trying to get leverage enough to push his hips back to meet Mark’s thrust, but the strap and the pressure of Mark’s hands on him prevented him from getting the position he so desperately sought.

“God, please, Mark…”

Seeing his lover twisting about trying to free his hands and hearing him beg only doubled Mark’s arousal, making him thrust harder and deeper into Ian. There was something inherently sexy about seeing Ian completely helpless and at his mercy, even if Mark knew that was a twisted sentiment.

“Fuck…” Ian half-whimpered and half-moaned. “Love, please!!”

Mark grasped the strap between his hands and tugged it loose, freeing Ian’s hands. Immediately, Ian pushed down against the mattress and pressed himself back against Mark, meeting each of his thrusts with urgency. Knowing he had abused his lover enough for one night, Mark didn’t try to slow him back down, and instead began to pull and push on Ian’s hips to help drive himself against the sweet spot Ian was after.

Ian fell into unintelligible moans, head thrown back and muscles tensed as Mark pushed him to the edge of bliss and held him there for several moments, letting the sounds of his lover carry him to the edge as well. Though he knew it must have only been minutes that they stayed that way, it somehow felt like an eternity, and Mark was loathe to end it. Leaning down and nipping Ian’s ear, Mark breathed heavily against his neck. “Cum for me.”

Without further prompting, Ian took himself in his hand, stroking in time to Mark’s thrusts. He gritted his teeth, reeling from the pleasure at both ends. Knowing Mark was watching him was a boon to his libido and he could feel the pressure building up in his loins. “Mark…” he moaned, so close it almost hurt.

“Ian…” Mark breathed tightly behind him, fingers digging in slightly at his hips. 

Knowing his husband was lingering on the edge of release was all the push he needed. With one final stroke, his orgasm hit, making him cry out brokenly as he came into his hand. The grunt of satisfaction behind him, followed by the deep, slow, methodical thrusts told Ian that Mark had peaked as well, and he groaned in pleasure as he felt himself being filled. Shuddering as he reached the end of his release, Ian dropped down on one forearm, still holding himself to try and keep the cum from dripping all over the bedspread, and rested his forehead against his arm as he panted from exertion. 

Mark was holding himself up against Ian’s lower back, breathing just as heavily, until he finally collected himself enough to carefully pull out and stumble towards the bathroom. Ian stayed, bend over the bed, feeling sated and sleepy as he listened to Mark turn the shower on to warm up the water, before washing his hands in the sink. Finally, Ian straightened himself and reached for the knot of the scarf, working it free with one hand and finally pulling it away from his eyes. Blinking as his vision swam back into focus, he dropped the scarf to the bed and made his way into the bathroom, pressing a kiss between Mark’s shoulder blades as he passed him to the shower and climbed in to wash himself.

Neither of them spoke until Mark joined him moments later, cupping Ian’s face and kissing him deeply. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Ian smiled. “Thanks for running lines with me.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure.” Mark grinned cheekily.

Ian couldn’t help but grin back at him, relinquishing the water to him as he lathered his hair with shampoo. He had to give Mark credit for coming up with unique ways to help Ian with his lines, though he was sure it wasn’t entirely altruistic on his husband’s end. Still, it had worked and they’d both enjoyed it immensely.

Now, whether or not Ian would be able to keep the blush off his cheeks as he recited that line on stage would be another matter entirely...

_Fin._


End file.
